Let's compare Apples to Apples
by DreamxxCatcher
Summary: Araidne NEVER fails tests. She's used to success, until after one exhausting night, she wakes up to Eames holding a brown paper bag. Eames is putting her to a test...Not a biology test, not a architecture test, but the only test he likes to take.
1. Chapter 1

***Please note the characters do not belong to me, but to the creator Christopher Nolan***

Ever since Cobb announced our new job, everybody in the spacious warehouse was in their own section. We were working non-stop like a hectic office the day before everything was due.

Arthur was busy gathering data on our new target. He was sitting at an iron-grey desk with his eyebrows arched in determination and his dark eyes focused on the papers scattered all about.

Cobb was pacing back and forth. That's how he usually comes up with a well-constructed plan. He even analyzes word for word what he'll say to the dreamer.

Meanwhile, Eames was constantly scribbling down notes. He'd stop for a brief second and tap his pencil on the right side of his scruffy cheek. He'd lick his lip while in deep though and then he'd come up with an idea or another detail and race off to write it down.

Me, on the other hand, I was the only one who was distracted. The mazes I was constructing weren't complicated enough. I was trying to build the world of the dreamer, but every time I would encounter problems that I never encountered before, not even on my first day when I helped the team with inception. I've always been an A student who rarely slacked off, but my mind just couldn't focus.

Each time I had to erase what I had and start over. Was it because of the fight that I had with my parents the other day? Did I drink too much coffee?

I could feel the frustration build up inside of me, it rumbled like a volcano ready to erupt, but instead of allowing it to do that, I let my frustration out in little sighs. I sighed a countless number of times throughout the afternoon and evening, but under the echoes of Cobb's pacing, Arthur's papers shuffling, and Eame's scribbling, they went unnoticed.

Beep! Beep! The bright red numbers showing 11:30 P.M. illuminated. This alarm meant it was time to call it a night. Not everybody left all at once. After every 20 minutes or so, each man left the concrete-floored warehouse and said his good-byes to those who were remaining.

I couldn't give up now. I desperately needed to work on the landscape that I should have made a lot of progress on hours ago. Eames was the last one to leave before me. "Ariadne, don't stay here too long, darling. It's bad for your skin to stay up so late. You'll need to put on even more make-up for your boyfriend if you keep this habit up." he chuckled deeply. Eames always teased me about that stuff after he saw me reading a teen beauty magazine with a "How to improve your looks for your next date" as the cover story.

I replied without looking up from my work, "No need to worry about me, my skin, or my dates, Eames. I'll just work a little longer." With that, he slowly closed the door behind him. A frigid pre-winter breeze escaped from the outside and trickled down my neck causing me to shiver. Wrapping my cardigan around me tight, I cracked my knuckles and whispered, "Let's get this done with."

A few hours passed. Furiously, I scratched my scalp commanding my mind to THINK, THINK, THINK! A yelp of annoyance easily escaped my throat and in turn, my head lied down on the table, my arms dangling, not bothering to rest them in my lap or on the table. I made a tiny bit of progress, but not enough to matter. I bit my lip and then automatically let out a long sigh that caused my bangs to flutter.

The next thing I knew, my eyes unbolted from the nap that locked me up. Sunlight pierced my retinas. "Oh crap," I stated after realizing I didn't leave the work place. I looked straight up towards the high ceiling, almost as if I was praying, and hoped that I'd have enough time go home. I desperately needed food or a change of clothes, both would be the best.

Without wasting any more time, I turned my head around to look at the clock: "7:30 A.M.! I slept here the entire night! Well, I might as well stay here. I'm supposed to come and work at 8:30; I won't have time to make it home and back." With annoyance, I plopped my head back on my desk. I held onto my stomach. I complained to myself, "I'll have to wait until noon to eat food. Why don't I live closer? Or better yet, why don't I carry spare money?"

"Here's some breakfast, love." I jumped. I didn't hear anyone come in. Now here, standing above me, is the early-bird Eames with his usual smirk, one hand leaning on the desk, the other just dropped a brown paper bag in front of my face. I looked from his face down to the paper bag. How did such a large man who always made a strong presence in the room sneak up on me?

I lifted it and unexpectedly, it was heavy. "What do you have in here? Booze?" Eames snickered as he pulled up a chair to sit next to me, and positioned himself as if he was seated on a chair on the beach, as comfortable as can be. "No, I limit my alcohol intake. I stop at, say, 5:00 in the morning."

I rolled my eyes at him and I began to pull out all the items: two milks (1 chocolate, 1 white), 2 yogurts (1 strawberry, 1 vanilla), 2 white plastic spoons, 2 granola bars, and 2 red and shiny apples.

Eames then began dividing the food promptly. He gave me the chocolate milk, the strawberry yogurt, a granola bar, and an apple. Surprisingly, I preferred all the food and flavors he picked out for me. I couldn't find a complaint with the food if I wanted one. I noticed a coffee on my side, not on his. "Why didn't you buy yourself a coffee?" I asked. "I am not fond of the taste," he stated as he was beginning to eat.

We sat in silence for what seemed like a minute. "I feel like I'm back in elementary school," I stated and broke the silence as I opened the little square carton of chocolate milk making sure I was opening it on the correct side. "Well, you are still a little kid, sweetheart." he joked just trying to tease and annoy me…and it worked. "I am not!" Eames showed his white teeth again as he smiled and his dark eyes closed as he laughed. "You totally responded like one." I could feel my face turn pink and then drift into a deep red.

In an attempt to hide it, I looked away and I took a big bite into my apple. The juice from the apple ran down a side of my mouth. I wiped it with my hand since he didn't bring napkins. "Did you know," Eames began as he picked up his apple and studied it. "…That eating an apple can prove whether you're a good kisser or not?"

Once I swallowed, I shook my head, "How so? That is not scientifically proven or logical by any means." Eames looked at me straight in the eyes and started to teach and demonstrate. "If you eat an apple as you did, with the juices running down your mouth, you're a sloppy kisser." He then showed me by taking a large bite of the apple and the juices trickled down his soft lips and dripped off his beard stubble.

"However, if you're like me, and eat an apple like this…" He then slightly turned the apple and took a small and neat bite. "Then you're a good kisser." He rotated the apple to show me and explained, "if your bite is an inch bigger than this, then you're an alright kisser. Any bigger or sloppier though, then you're one bad kisser."

"I don't believe in that kind of stuff, especially theories that were conducted by apples to prove kissing abilities," I remarked. "Oh, really?" He asked, with an emphasis on the double l's. "Prove it." He moved in closer, almost too close. I crossed my arms and shifted back as much as the chair would allow me. "No way am I falling for that," I sneered.

He pulled back, appalled. "My dear, Adriane, would I ever trick you?" I gave him that sarcastic look in which people often add the, "no duh," at the end. Eames smiled. "Don't be like that. All you have to do is show me that you can eat an apple like a good kisser."

He paused, "I never knew you would turn down a challenge as simple as biting into an apple." That last line struck home. My sarcastic look evolved into a glare and with a blink of an eye, I accepted the challenge with a, "fine! I'll show you."

Crunch. "Nope, too big." Crunch. "Too sloppy." Crunch. "Nope, do try again." Crunch. I showed him the apple one last time and compared it to his. He examined it closely for a long time. Then he straightened up and I waited for the verdict.

"No, sorry, dear. You're definitely still a kid who can't kiss a boy without drooling all over him." I clenched my fists, "No I am not! …Whoa!" WHAM!

It was the floor. On top of the floor was Eames. On top of Eames was me. My long, slightly curled brown hair was dangling, the tips barely touching his neck. He cushioned the fall that I admit to having caused. My arms, in order to brace myself, held on to the fabric of his upper sleeves, almost coming dangerously close to his chest. It wasn't like grabbing a rock, but you could tell he was toned in the arms.

I felt my face become red once again. We both took a breath and did not speak nor move. Tap, tap, tap. It must be Arthur and Cobb. Finally my brain translated the message: "you + Eames + the floor = scene * (weird + risky)"

I scrambled up from off of Eames and avoided his stare by turning around slightly. I heard him brushing his shirt off from any dust or debris from the concrete floor. I expected him to be angry at me for sending him to the ground or at least just as flushed as I was.

I was waiting for him to leave my station. Instead, he came up to me, put his arms on my shoulders, and didn't show any trace of discomfort or enmity. He was about to say something, I'm sure of it. What could he possibly have to say after that awkward moment? Then he said it, with his signature smirk of course, "I give that landing a 10."

The door was noisily pulled ajar and the extractor and the point man strolled in. Cobb nodded at us, said a typical, "Good morning," and continued walking to his part of the warehouse, already having his mind at work.

Arthur, with his hands in his pockets, greeted us and smiled at me. "How are you Araidne?" On their own my hands went behind my back, and I swayed lightly from side to side, returning the smile, "Good, thanks Arthur." As he passed us by, his face turned emotionless and a stare focused on Eames.

I knew Eames and Arthur never got along, mostly because of Eames' teasing, but Arthur looked somewhat irritated…well, more irritated than usual.

Once he was out of hearing distance and his back turned, I took that opportunity to hit Eames in the back of the head and he grumbled. "Ow, women are ever so painful," Eames complained as he rubbed his head and wandered back to his side to start his note-taking.

Everyone was at their work station already in the midst of their work while I cleaned up all the food debris: the milk cartons, the granola bar wrappers, apple cores, and the empty yogurt containers.

I then noticed a little piece of hard candy wrapped up in pink and white swirly packaging sitting on top of my books. It wasn't there before, right? I don't remember it being in the paper bag. The label on the packaging was simple; all it said was "Swirl". I shrugged to myself and decided to taste it. It was sweet, but not too sweet and the strawberry and vanilla mixed together perfectly.


	2. Chapter 2

After hours and hours, I finally started to make the progress I wanted. The only thing missing on this maze was the short-cut. Just when I was about to rest for a small break after being absorbed into work for so long, the alarm buzzed again indicating dinner. The money I gathered from my house at noon was still in my purse.

Enveloping my neck with my favorite, simple raspberry red scarf, I observed an autumn drizzle tapping at the windows. With no umbrella, I stood at the large warehouse door, preparing to scamper through the streets to my favorite to-go restaurant in order to stay dry as much as possible.

Just as I was about to bolt out, a hand brushed mine. A tall, lanky, figure gazed down at me. "Share an umbrella?" Arthur offered politely while opening the black umbrella. "Sure, but what about Cobb? Don't you guys always have a discussion over dinner?" "Yeah, he'll catch up. He doesn't mind the rain, anyway," Arthur explained.

We stepped out of the warehouse and as we approached the sidewalk, Arthur took his hand and entwined it with mine.

Arthur dropped me off at the restaurant and back-tracked to go meet with Cobb. He's really sweet, isn't he? I got my order quick and as I stepped out, I reached my hand out and felt a few cool drops. I dashed back to the warehouse as best I could without dropping my dinner. I leaped over puddles, avoided people with giant obstructing umbrellas, and dodged splashes from cars that zoom over muddy water.

I yanked the heavy door open and started to walk towards my desk. On any other day, I'd say it was peaceful and quiet while the guys were out, but this time, it felt isolated, lonely, and distant. …Crack.

I picked up my right food wondering what I stepped on. Pink and white shards were scattered into a thousand pieces under that wrapper.

Looking down the warehouse, there was an entire trail of candies just asking to be followed. I followed the trail of bright-colored candies like I was on a real life Candyland game board. The final candy stopped at a door that I always assumed led to a closet.

I pushed the door open, it was left unlocked, and there were four things in the room: a chair, a desk with the silver suitcase, and another chair with a neon pink sticky note stuck on the armrest.

It wasn't until I was fully in the room when I noticed the forger was lying asleep in one of the chairs. I glanced from the forger to the square of pink that read, "Won't you dream with me, _darling_?"

I took a glimpse at the suitcase; it was only set for 5 minutes. I sat down and started to supply myself with the sedative. "I can't believe I'm doing this. This better be good."

There I was, outside on a freezing street corner with snowflakes floating down softly, facing the fanciest hotel that I have ever laid eyes on. How did I tell it was so fancy? There were grand fountains spewing relaxing steamy trickles of water, a white marble pattern replaced the sidewalk, and you could tell only the richest of rich stayed there simply by how the people dressed. I decided to check it out of curiosity, hoping they would let me in despite my casual clothing.

It wasn't until I stepped on the marble and caused a loud clomping that I noticed I was in an entirely different outfit. Instead of my usual sneakers, t-shirt, pants, cardigan, and scarf, I was wearing a petite dark scarlet dress that was dotted with lace along the skirt and the upper half around my arms and the low neckline. Red heels with tiny black bows clacked each step I took. My nails were painted to match the dress and I felt a light, gold necklace on my neck. Looks like I didn't need to fit in after all.

I entered the hotel and it almost blinded me. It was a landscape of snow encrusted with gold. Every piece of furniture, every plant, everything was white, gold, or a mixture of the two. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I wandered over to the elevator, trying not to stumble, and I just missed it.

As I patiently waited, I wondered to myself still remembering that I was in _his_ dream, the chuckling, pub-loitering womanizer. "I never knew Eames was so…high-class." Ding!

The elevator glided open, but before I could as much as take a step, I was yanked by my wrist, and pulled into someone's arms. I struggled until I realized it was Arthur who was hugging me. I hesitated nervously, "Arthur? That's you, right?" Arthur let go of me as the door closed, held my hands, and stared at me with his usual stare. "Who else would it be, Araidne?"

Arthur pushed the button for one of the highest floors, number 12. His eyes scanned me up and down, like I was a piece of art in a museum. "You…are…breathtaking." There was no way I could prevent a blush from that statement. "Thank you, Arthur. By the way, thanks again for walking me to the restaurant." Arthur nodded his dark eyes with more emotion than usual. Ding! Floor 3.

The elevator was creeping up the floors bit by bit. Arthur smiled at me and asked, "Do you like me, Araidne?" Ding! Floor 5.

Shocked by this unexpected question, I began to fumble all over my words. "W-well…I-I-I" Suddenly, Arthur's mouth was next to my ear, his breath warm with a hint of cigarettes. "Well, I like you," His hand caressed my cheek and moved further down until he reached the small of my back, his other hand was on my shoulder. Ding! Floor 8.

I swear, I could have melted right there, but I felt an uncomfortable strain within the pit of my stomach. It was as if someone tied a rope into a knot and kept on tugging to make it tighter and tighter. Ding! Floor 10.

Arthur was trailing butterfly kisses from my neck to just before my cleavage. His hand then gently picked up my chin. Something didn't feel right. "Arthur, I'm sorry, but I'm-" Too late. Arthur smacked a kiss against my lips. The words died in my throat. My body wanted to resist, but it was malfunctioning and responding to Arthur's racing lips. My body told me to ease up and go with it, but my mind was in chaos, trying to command my body to shove him away. My voice was muffled every time I attempted to say, "Stop!" Ding! Floor 12.

I pushed him away violently and created a thick and heavy invisible barrier between us. "I'm sorry Arthur, I like you, I really do, but as a friend. I'm sorry I had to push you, but I've been meaning to tell you this for so long." Arthur had the most pain, dejection, and fury that I've seen in him…that I've ever seen in a man and I was the one caused it.

"God dammit Araidne!" He stopped to sigh. "I'm sorry for forcing myself on you, but I thought you felt the same way. I really did." His fists clenched and his eyebrows arched furiously like two St. Louis arches, angry at the city.

One hand was blocking the elevator from closing. "I'm sorry too. You're a really sweet guy, but I think there is someone else there for you and-" "You're telling me there is someone else for me? What are you going to tell me now? That you fucking like Eames!" The force of a 90 mph baseball nailed my stomach, slicing the "rope" in half. I've seen him angry, but not to this degree and it was never directed at me.

An eerie turquoise haze swirled around me blocking my vision. Suddenly, the elevator vanished and my room was revealed to the very detail. Each step I took was sluggish and silent, yet the first and fourth floor board released a squeak as usual. The faded and ugly yellow antique curtains weren't touched; they remained slightly open, just enough for sunlight to peek through the tiny, crowded room or more like, a mini-library with a bed.

Even the shelved books were in alphabetical order and scarves were scattered in various places. Everything about my room was normal; until I came across two new items at the end of the last row of books after _The Zygote Chronicles_, a journal by a mother that recorded the whole process of becoming pregnant to her death and that my mother gave me obviously hinting me to give her grandchildren. Two alien photo albums, one thin and one big and bulky, grabbed my attention and I gently pulled them off the shelf.

I unfastened the thin one first. It was dotted with pink and purple glitter on thick white construction paper. "Me and the Team" emerged in shocking neon colors as I turned the page.


	3. Chapter 3

Underneath was a group photo. Cobb was in the middle, standing tall with a smile on his face, a rare sight that someone managed to capture on photo.

To the left of him was his point man, clearly annoyed with his arms crossed, but there was something about him that made you think…no, _notice_ that he was in a lighter mood than usual.

On the other side of Cobb was Eames, his goofy smile in full shine, one arm around Cobb, the other in his pocket, yet he still looked suave. He clearly hit Arthur in the back of head just as the picture was about to take. A giggle escaped from me. I felt like I was looking at an old year book from school snickering at how we used to look.

Yusuf was next to Arthur; you can just hear his chuckle just from looking at the picture. Saito was lastly by Eames, slightly turned away from the camera, with the facial expression, "Please, can we get this over with?"

Then I saw me; I sat on the floor below the men, Indian-style, looking…truly in bliss. I flipped through the pages and in only a measly minute, all the memories flew past my eyes. Many fond memories filled that book, although we did endure the most dangerous and hardest times of our lives then, but the important thing is: we shared them.

I reached for the giant chunk of black paper and dropped it in my lab. It was blank except for the piercing red ribbon that flowed and bound it together. I turned the page: there was no title. "What is this one of?" I wondered. I turned each page, scanning for photos.

Blank…Blank…Blank. Then I came to a page that held content: there was a small photo of Eames, leaning back in his chair, with his feet lounging on the desk, his usual pose. Next to it was a picture of me, holding up a maze at my work station.

I turned the pages, more and more photos than I thought were possible were before my eyes with each captured moment: Eames leaning up against my desk giving me lunch, Eames checking up on me before he headed home, me dreaming while Eames watched, holding my hand, Eames annoying Arthur and me dying from laughter, and then finally, I reached the end: me, in the red dress I was wearing, hugging Eames surrounded by snow. That never happened nor do I remember anyone photographing us at any one of these moments.

Pop! A piercing headache caused the palm of my hand to steady my head. Within a matter of seconds, I was back in the elevator, Arthur starting intensely at me, clearly asking something of me, and my headache faded.

"W-what?" I asked puzzled since I had forgotten his question since those images took over my brain and let me escape from the dream for a brief second. He repeated, "Do you like Eames?" I murmured truthfully, recalling all those photos, "I-I…do." Arthur evaded my eyes and walked out of the elevator, not looking back and I watched him until my field of vision from the door became thinner and thinner.

I was now in the center of elevator, alone knowing that what I just did was the right thing to do, although it was painful to see Arthur like that. My feelings for him just weren't there. Hurting him now would be better than hurting him later. The elevator wasn't going anywhere, so I pushed number 13, having no idea where it leads.

Ding! A gust of icy wind engulfed my skin and bones, causing me to let out a shiver. My hair flew back from the push of it. I realized it was now evening. Floor 13, the rooftop, was covered with snow that sparkled from the reflection from the few lights. There were footprints leading to _him. _He was standing against the balcony with a wine glass in his hand that swished the white wine waves back and forth. He didn't move as he took in the city illuminated against the dark, dreary sky and he gripped the bar hard as if it was his lifeline.

The point of my heel slid through the snow as I tried to approach him without getting noticed. Somehow, he knew this, and departed from the balcony. He walked towards me, forming new footprints. I never took note of his gait until now. He walked in even steps, with confidence, but not too much of it. He didn't seem to mind his shoes and socks collecting snow.

Setting down his glass on a nearby table, he stretched out his hand, reaching for mine. I took it and he led me into a short embrace. After he let me go, I didn't hesitate, "What is this all about Eames? Why did you make a trail of candies and wrote that note?"

He was forced to look down at me as I was forced to look up at him, despite the extra inches the heels gave me. At first, his face was as cold as stone. Okay, maybe not _that_ cold, but his face was serious on Eame's level. "So…you like me, eh?"

My face flared red, my mouth dropped open on its own. "_That _was you? I should have known." He flashed his usual "I love teasing you" smile as his fingers on his right hand gently grabbed a strand of my hair and played with it. "Well," I admitted, "you obviously observed Arthur enough to completely fool me." He replied, "Love, enough talk about Arthur. Don't you have a test to finish?"

I tilted my head slightly in confusion, "You mean that faulty apple test?" He nodded. "Well, how will I do that? I don't see any apples or a _kid_ my age around," I sarcastically remarked pretending to search the rooftop.

He pressed the elevator button, bent even lower, and his forehead pressed against mind. "I'm a kid too, ya know." I laughed lightly. "That's for sure. I'm surprised you admitted it," I agreed.

"So, we're both kids. Isn't it time to put that apple theory to rest?" Eames insisted with that lovely accent. I stared at his lips as he licked them out of habit, almost causing myself to lick mine. There was no longer that pain in my stomach. This time I felt my heart beating like a hammer. I could feel the bang, bang, bang, pounding in my brain.

He fired another question without my answer, "Did you eat any of those candies?" What a random question, but I replied, "Yes, why?" Without another breath, his soft lips pressed against mine.

My brain didn't have time to register, and then again, how could it? My hands settled on his shoulders and then traveled up to his face. I felt the roughness of his scruffy cheeks. I always wondered what a man's scruffy face felt like. His hands found a comfortable spot on the curve of my hips. We became closer and closer, so close we shared heat in the winter air.

His hips brushed against mine. He pulled up for the purpose of gathering air, but I knew him all too well that he was offering me the chance to counter his kiss and I tugged down at his tie to bring him back forcibly. His hand slid up and down my back and rustled with my slightly curled hair.

We both heard the bell of the elevator and he picked me up like I was a feather, and put me in the corner of the elevator. His hand hit a random button behind him. We ceased kissing. He had the upper hand. I was now cornered in a small space.

His toned right arm was above my head, resting on the wall. The other still rested on my hip. We gazed into each other's eyes. "I like you, Araidne," he whispered. "You taste like my favorite flavor…strawberry and vanilla."

He invaded my space once more, but I wasn't a soldier hiding in a ditch, I liked this invasion and took it on full force. His hand smoothed down from my hips to my thigh and I played with the hairs on his neck and drifted my hands to steady myself on his chest. As we leaned into another passionate kiss…Ding!

My eyes opened. I turned over to Eames; our stares were fixed into each other's eyes. I was in a blush now and he was appreciating that.

We both unhooked ourselves and it was my turn this time to walk up to him. I pulled down his tie once more. "So, did I pass the test?" He smirked. "You weren't bad. Not bad at all, darling. No sloppiness, however, I put you in 'average' range, granny smith."

My eyes widened and I giggled, "You're mean!" I punched him in the chest a few times. My punches probably felt to him like taps of a finger. I stood on my tip toes and pecked him on the lips.

We walked back to our stations and as soon as we sat down, Cobb and Arthur entered; Cobb was drenched while Arthur was perfectly dry. "You guys are boring. Eating inside here," Cobb complained as he walked by. Eames and I glanced at each other with sly smiles sneaking onto our mouths.

Arthur turned into my direction and pointed at my desk. "Araidne, you didn't eat your dinner?" Embarrassed, I made up an excuse. "I'm full…from earlier." Out of the corner of my eye, Eames smirked yet again. Arthur replied with a "humph." And started to walk away when he turned around and he speculated, "You have a note on your back. Want me to get it for you?" I replied hurriedly, "Oh, no thanks, Arthur. Thank you though."

Arthur continued on his way and I grabbed the neon pink sticky note. I took a casting glance at Eames, who was already down to work, facing the other direction.

It had a doodle of an apple, a bite colored in forming a heart, and underneath it was an "A" circled with red pen. I grinned and wrote on a new note, "Do you have any other _tests _I can ace?" and I wandered over to Eame's desk, handed him a couple stacks of papers he needed, and I stuck the note on his shoulder as I sneaked a peck on his cheek.


End file.
